


Knowing

by the_wistful_traveler



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wistful_traveler/pseuds/the_wistful_traveler
Summary: "Goody knew what flirting looked like.And even if he didn't, what Faraday was doing over at the bar could hardly be mistaken for anything else."Or, in which our four favorite gay cowboys spend some quality time in a bar in the middle of nowhere and Goody finally gets his curiosity sated.





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've finished in long, long while, and my first for this fandom (which I love) so I hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> If you have an idea for a better title, please feel free to suggest it because this was honestly the best I could do.
> 
> Cheers!

Goodnight Robicheaux knew what flirting looked like.

Granted, he hadn't been on the receiving end in quite a while (Billy was not the sort of man who flirted, precisely, or at least not in the conventional sense) but prior to the war there had been Josephine Barnard, and Alice Lavage, and Ruth Bishop, each of them doing their absolute best to catch his eye enough to be the next Mrs. Robicheaux. 

(Had the war not happened, he likely would have wed the lovely Ruth; she watched Alice in much the same way that his eyes followed the stable hand Jacob, and Goodnight thought that there could possibly be an understanding between them, and maybe the whole thing wouldn't be a lifetime of misery, but then the war happened and Goodnight _jumped_ at the chance to enlist, so sure the whole affair would be over in a matter of months and he could avoid marriage just that little bit longer, what a naive _fool_ he was–)

The point is, Goody knew what flirting looked like.

And even if he didn't, what Faraday was doing over at the bar could hardly be mistaken for anything else.

The seven of them had come across the town of Clear Chapel a few days' ride into the New Mexico territory, the first sign of civilization they had seen in more than a fortnight, and they had all to a man been eager for a real bed, a few drinks, and maybe even a bath if the boarding house had a tub – even Red Harvest, whose grudging agreement was in that his face expressed a little less displeasure than usual. 

It had been short work to stable their horses and secure rooms above the saloon, and then they had nigh-on invaded the main floor, taking over a large table in the corner and ordering drinks from the same gruff, bearded barkeep they had rented their lodgings from.

“Doesn't that bother you?” Goody finally asked. Sam, Jack, and Red had retired to their respective beds almost an hour and a half ago, the former two claiming exhaustion and Red simply uninterested in spending any more time in the saloon. Only Billy and Vasquez were left, Billy nursing a drink while Vasquez waited for Faraday to return with his next, and Goody figured this was as much privacy as he was ever liable to get anymore.

“Hmm? Doesn't what bother me?” replied Vasquez, looking first at Goody and then casting a glance around the room as if he could find whatever had caught the sharpshooter's attention. Vasquez, long legs stretched out in front of him, was sitting with a clear view of the room and the staircase, his back to the bar. Although not a suspicious man by nature, the circumstances of his bounty had made him a paranoid sort, and he was simply more relaxed with a good view of all exits.

A laugh came from the direction of the bar, and Goody nodded toward it. “ _That_.” Vasquez twisted, glancing over to where a blonde barmaid was leaning across the polished wood into Faraday's space, the redhead grinning back and telling some sort of story that kept making her blush and laugh. Two glasses of whiskey sat on the bar next to Faraday, completely ignored.

“The flirting?” Vasquez asked with slight surprise, raising an eyebrow when Goody nodded. The Mexican then shrugged, lighting another of his favored cigars. “Not really. Is what he does.”

“I gotta tell you, son, most men would not be okay with their lover flirting with another in front of them.”

“He's not going to fuck her,” Vasquez replied bluntly in an exhale of smoke, causing Billy to smirk slightly at Goody's sputtering. “He doesn't even touch. Watch him.” Goody did, and realized that Vasquez was correct. Although his attention was focused on the woman he was flirting with, Faraday shifted himself out of her reach every time she made to rest a hand on his hand or arm. It was so subtle Goody doubted she even realized he was doing it. Certainly, Goody himself would not have known it was deliberate had Vasquez not told him. 

As if sensing their eyes on him, Faraday turned to look over at their table. Vasquez gave the two glasses of whiskey a pointed look, then acted out an exaggerated parody of dying. Faraday barked a laugh and waved a hand nonchalantly. Within moments he had extricated himself from the barmaid and made his way back to their shared table with drinks in hand.

“Sorry, darlin',” he apologized as he settled into his chair with a slight grunt and slid one of the glasses to Vasquez. “Got a bit distracted.” A grin bloomed on his face as Vasquez laughed.

“She is very pretty, no?” the Mexican agreed.

“Too pretty for this place,” said Faraday cheerfully. He shifted again, brow furrowing slightly as he tried to get comfortable. Faraday had healed from his insane charge on the Gatling gun, or as healed as he would ever be, but his leg routinely caused him no small amount of pain, particularly at the end of a long day in the saddle. Goody was at just the right angle to see Vasquez's hand slip casually beneath the table, fingers kneading gently into the taut muscle where the doctor had extracted a slice of shrapnel the length of a child's hand. At Goody's pointed look, Billy shifted a bit over, blocking the line of sight to Faraday from most of the room. It wouldn't do for anyone to see him with another man's hand on his thigh, higher and far more familiarly than propriety would allow.

That brought Goody back to the conversation he and Vasquez had been having, and after weighing it in his mind, decided that if Farday felt like he was overstepping, he would tell him so. In all the time they had known each other, Goody had never seen Faraday hold his tongue about anything.

“It's none of my business, Joshua,” Goody started (“Oh, balls,” Faraday muttered under his breath), “and you certainly needn't answer, but do you have any interest in women at all? Or have you always preferred men?” Faraday startled so badly he nearly knocked over his whiskey.

“Jesus Christ, Robicheaux,” Faraday hissed, steadying his glass and throwing a quick glance around the saloon. “Talk like that can find a man on the wrong end of a noose ‘round these parts.”

“No one is listening,” Billy reassured in his usual low accented tones, but even he was looking a little more rigid than usual. Goody was about to apologize and wave the whole thing off, because truly it was none of his business and he couldn't put a reason to his curiosity anyway, when a sigh cut him off. 

“No, no women,” Faraday answered. “They're too….” He frowned and made a slight waving gesture as he appeared to search for the word. “Soft. Feel like I'm gonna break ‘em. I prefer guys like Vas here.” He nudged Vasquez lightly with his shoulder.

“I prefer you, too, guero,” Vasquez reassured. Faraday grinned again at him, that same boyish expression, but there was a hint of fondness in it that he usually concealed in towns like these. 

“You've been with a woman, then?” Goody asked. 

“Full of questions tonight, aren't you? One. I was about fifteen, sixteen? Somewhere around there.” (Faraday had been stuck in a bed for three weeks following the stunt with the dynamite and the Gatling, and Vasquez had spent most of those three weeks sitting in a chair trying to distract him. One particularly bad night, where Faraday was about soaking the sheets through with sweat, Vasquez desperately asked Faraday his age, and the Irishman was just hazy enough to answer, easy as anything, that his Ma hadn't been too good at keeping track “ _but I'm about thirty, I think_.” Goody tended not to think too much on it, because he always wanted to hit something when he did, and it was always compounded by the fact that Faraday still didn't understand why.) “My friend's older sister. I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't interested in fellas and she was happy to help. Could've gone better.” He pulled a face at the memory.

“It's fortunate she didn't tell anyone,” Goody murmured. He himself had almost been caught once, with the local judge's middle son, and had lived in fear for weeks that someone would tell his father of his inclinations. Nothing had ever come of it, but Goody was never quite sure after that if someone knew or not, and William had refused to see him again.

Faraday shrugged, but his eyes were laughing at some private joke. “We kept each other's secrets, Maria and I.” Vasquez choked on his cigar, sputtering as he tried to exhale the smoke and laughing uncontrollably at the same time.

“Maria? Your _pistola_?” he demanded when he could finally speak again. 

“She thought it was funny, too,” Faraday admitted cheerfully before he drained the last of his whiskey. “You ain't usually this nosy, Goodnight,” he continued as he leaned back into his chair, which creaked ominously under his weight. 

“He thought Vasquez might be jealous,” Billy explained, causing Goody to look faintly embarrassed. “Of you flirting with the woman.” Faraday laughed loudly, drawing a couple eyes to their table. The barmaid from earlier, Goody noticed, looked particularly disgruntled, perhaps realizing that her evening wasn't going to go the way she had undoubtedly hoped.

“Nah, Vas don't get jealous,” he explained when he calmed down. 

“I leave that to you, guero,” Vasquez interjected, a faint smirk curling the edge of his mouth. Faraday was a possessive bastard, of his guns, his horse, his people; anyone with two functional eyes could see it. Given what little Goody had surmised of the life he'd led prior to Rose Creek, he couldn't really blame Faraday. They all had their own eccentricities anyway, so none of them had any room to be casting stones. Goody least of all. 

Besides, it's not like Vasquez was complaining. 

A movement in their direction caught the attention of the four simultaneously and they instantly quieted, turning to face the barkeep. “Last call, boys,” he informed them gruffly. “I'm shutting the doors in half an hour and gettin’ home to the missus.” Goody cast a look around and realized that in the time they had been speaking, most of the locals had gone for the evening. There were only a few stragglers left, and themselves, and likely as not they hadn't been sent on their way yet only because they had the lodging upstairs.

“Our apologies,” Goody said immediately in his genteel Louisiana drawl, taking over as the spokesman for the group in Sam's absence. “We hadn't realized the hour had gotten quite so late. Can we settle our tab tonight?” The owner of the saloon waved it off. 

“I'll add it to your group's bill, you can pay before you leave.”

“Mighty generous,” Faraday drawled, having shifted himself surreptitiously out of Vasquez's space. “Most folk ain't so trusting in places like this.” Next to him, Vasquez silently drank the last of his whiskey and took one last pull off his cigar, crushing the remains underneath his boot.

The man snorted. “Son, I know where you and your friends are sleeping tonight. Trust got nothing to do with it.”

“We'll be on our way shortly,” Goody interrupted hastily before Faraday could open his mouth again. Last thing they needed was to get exiled to sleep in the stables with their horses. 

“See that you are,” the bearded man said, before offering them all a nod and going over to shoo out the locals. 

“Come on, cariño,” Vasquez purred, his voice dropping a register as he dared a quick brush of fingers under the hem of Faraday's shirt. Faraday's breath hitched just the slightest bit. “Let's go upstairs and I can show you how not jealous I am, sí?” 

You had to hand it to Faraday, Goody thought. When properly motivated, he wasted no time at all. Within moments he had pulled them both to their feet and was pushing Vasquez as subtly as he could toward the stairs that led up to their rented rooms. Vasquez had just enough time to throw Goody and Billy a wink before they were up and out of sight.

“Let's go, Goody,” Billy sighed after a moment. “If we go to bed now maybe we can fall asleep before Faraday starts screaming.”

“Sometimes, mon cher, I really dislike you.”

xXx

Vasquez and Faraday were the last two to come downstairs the following morning. Faraday descended first, all loose-limbed, languid satisfaction that was damn near obscene. He dropped into one of the two free chairs at the otherwise full table. “Mornin’!” he greeted cheerfully.

“No need to ask how your night was,” Billy snorted. 

“We all know how his night was. The walls are not _that_ thick here,” Red unexpectedly rebutted, to a couple guffaws and deep sighs. Faraday grinned with a stunning lack of self consciousness. Shame, Goody had learned, was not one of his prevailing character traits. 

“Vasquez still sleeping?” Sam asked, spooning another bite of porridge into his mouth.

“Nah, just getting his stuff together. Any chance of gettin’ us some of that?” As if on cue, Faraday's stomach let out an audible grumble. 

“Owner said he'd send some over when he saw you boys come down.” The sound of boots on the wooden stairs heralded the arrival of the last of their group. If Faraday was loose and relaxed, then Vasquez was smugness personified. Like a giant cat, he dropped into the last open seat between Faraday and Jack. Out on the trail, away from the prying eyes of judgemental townsfolk, he would've grabbed Faraday by the chin and kissed him, always incredibly affectionate in the mornings. Here, he contented himself with slinging an arm across the back of Faraday's chair.

“Is that breakfast?” he asked immediately, eyeing their food interestedly.

“So predictable, Vas,” Farday sighed, but he was smiling. “Sam says it's comin’.”

“Worked up an appetite, did you?” Billy snarked. He and Goody had the room next to Faraday and Vasquez, so his mild irritation was understandable. Vasquez smirked broadly and no doubt would've replied - his mouth was already opening - when he was interrupted by food arriving. It was the blonde barmaid Faraday had been flirting with last night, two full bowls of porridge in her hands and a disgruntled set to her expression. She set them down on the table perhaps slightly harder than necessary and not a single word, turning on her heel with a sniff and stalking away.

“Christ, Faraday, did you promise her marriage or something?” Sam asked, more amused than he really should have been.

“Probably don't meet too many new men?” Faraday speculated, before shrugging and picking up a spoon to dig into his meal. 

“One of these days, son, some broken-hearted woman is gonna try to shoot you,” Jack said mildly without looking up from his Bible, finally putting his two cents into the conversation. Jack customarily spent the first hour or so of his morning reading scripture, if he had the time, and rarely contributed to the rambling conversations of the rest of the group. 

Faraday thought that over as he chewed. Then: “Vas won't let me get shot,” he said matter-of-factly, to a chorus of groans. 

“You're impossible,” Goody sighed from where he had his face buried in his hands.

“It's part of my charm and you know it.”

xXx 

Goodnight Robicheaux knew what flirting looked like. 

He also knew what love looked like. 

The seven had left town about an hour after they finished eating, ready to see what new trouble they could get themselves into, what new adventure they could find. They all breathed a little easier on the trail, free from the worries and constraints of those small settlements like Clear Chapel. With no unfriendly gazes to worry about, Vasquez and Faraday were never more than an arms length at any given moment. Faraday would chatter about anything and everything, jokes and stories alike, all while Vasquez listened with an air of amused patience and the occasional input or question. He accepted each small snack or extra portion Faraday pushed his way, often unthinkingly. Vasquez, meanwhile, watched Faraday's movements with hawklike focus, ready to make Faraday sit down and stay still while he set to massaging the ache from his leg, or arms, or shoulders. He would pepper Faraday with absent kisses and touches, almost like he couldn't help himself, though none of them were blind to the eager way Faraday leaned into the affection.

At night, they set their sleeping rolls together, falling asleep spooning but just as often winding up a tangle of limbs. They both enjoyed the warmth and the closeness, Goody knew, perhaps for different reasons, but appreciated all the same. 

He eyed the two men fondly across the dying fire at their campsite, already hopelessly entwined and dead to the world, although guns still close to hand. 

“Goody,” said Billy's soft, sleep-rough voice from behind him, pulling Goody from his observations. “Sleep.”

Yes, Goody knew flirting, but he knew this far, far better. He smiled softly to himself. 

“Yes, mon cher.”


End file.
